


How to Properly Save the Day

by Reyn



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Humor, Multi, Pack Fic, Teen Wolf Fan Fiction Contest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-02
Updated: 2012-10-02
Packaged: 2017-11-15 12:05:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/527120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reyn/pseuds/Reyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one can really blame Derek for relying on the wrong people to save the day. </p><p>In which Scott is in a corner, Danny is dying, Stiles has awesome ideas, Lydia rises to her BAMF status, and Isaac is overlooked. Oh, and Jackson is mainly there to look pretty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How to Properly Save the Day

**Author's Note:**

> If this looks at all familiar to you, it's because I took one of my existing works and brushed it up to be more end of Season 2 compliant for the Teen Wolf Fan Fiction Contest. Now that the contest is over and done with, I figured I'd post it here as a stand-alone.
> 
> Hope you all enjoy!

Four pairs of eyes turned, the plinking sound of a blood drop hitting concrete flooring echoing in the ears of all werewolves present.  
  
“Yeah, I’m going to need another tissue. Again.”  
  
Jackson pulled another five tissues from the box he was holding and wordlessly handed them over to Danny, who sent yet another dark glare over to the corner Scott had been banished to.  
  
“Look, I said I was sorry. I didn’t mean to—”  
  
A sharp hiss from Jackson had Scott rapidly retreating in his footsteps until his back hit the two walls. It was a true display of just how apologetic he really was when he started listening to an irate Jackson of all people. Shuffling his feet, Scott stared imploringly out at the room at large, making all of its occupants waver in their conviction of being upset with him.  
  
Except for Danny. Danny merely stared back as he quickly changed out tissues, slapping the bloodied ones into Isaac’s outstretched hand while pressing the fresh ones against his most likely broken nose.  
  
Catching on that it wasn’t yet time to forgive his best friend, Stiles let out a sigh and twirled a finger in Scott’s direction. “Maybe you should just…turn around. Face your time-out corner for a little bit longer.”  
  
Scott did as told and the tension immediately started leaking out of everyone’s shoulders now that those sad, guilt-ridden eyes were no longer on them.  
  
“Guys, it’s been more than twenty minutes,” Lydia chimed in. “Don’t we need to take him to a hospital or something if he’s still bleeding this badly?”  
  
“I’ll be fine,” Danny insisted, even as he motioned with his fingers to be given a few more tissues.  
  
“Derek knows first aid.”  
  
Everyone turned to make sure Scott was still facing the corner after giving his suggestion before collectively turning to look at Derek.  
  
“I only know shape shifting remedies,” Derek corrected, shaking his head. “Basic human first aid isn’t really needed with our healing abilities.”  
  
“Way to make the humans of the pack feel like they’re in good hands,” Stiles muttered from the floor, distractedly tapping away at his phone.  
  
Jackson eyed the gap between Stiles’ hunched form and his phone. “What are you doing?”  
  
Wordlessly, Stiles flipped on the volume, letting loose the well-known gaming sounds of lasers, explosions, and dramatic MIDI tunes on an eternal loop.  
  
Interest piqued, Jackson, Isaac, and even Derek leaned over to watch.  
  
“You guys, I’m serious!” Lydia interrupted once she realized no one was planning on paying much attention to her worries. “Danny’s starting to look as pale as Isaac, and it really isn’t a good color on him!”  
  
Startled, all three men looked up in time to see Danny sway slightly to the right.  
  
“I’m fine,” Danny repeated, overcorrecting his posture so that he was now leaning a bit too far to the left. Isaac helpfully pushed him back upright.  
  
“We’re taking you to the hospital.” Derek’s tone left no room for argument. “In the meantime, we need to find a way to at least slow the bleeding down so that he doesn’t pass out on the way there. Who else might know first aid?” Isaac started to raise his hand, but Derek’s gaze went straight to the man sitting on the floor. “Stiles?”  
  
The hand went back down.  
  
Stiles’ surprised double-take was less than reassuring. “What? What makes you think I would know first aid?”  
  
“Because your dad’s the sheriff,” Jackson supplied, as if it made all the sense in the world.  
  
Not for the first time, Stiles found himself wondering about the collective I.Q. levels of werewolf packs. “Yeah. A cop. Not a Boy Scout leader. You want to learn about gun safety or how to break out of an assaulter’s hold, then you can come to me.” He motioned over to Scott, who was still resolutely facing his corner. “Scott’s mom is a nurse,  _and_  he works for a vet! Why aren’t you asking him for help?”  
  
Derek sneered, as if he were offended by the very suggestion pouring out from Stiles’ mouth. “Scott lost his privilege to touch Danny when he decided to break his face. You’re the one Deaton’s always trying to give advice to, so why don’t you listen for once and use your imagination?”  
  
Stiles’ glare flickered from Derek to Isaac as he noticed yet another failed hand raise. Seeing as how he wasn’t too fond of Isaac’s sudden switch to goody-two-shoes, Two-Face, best-friend-stealer, Stiles closed out his game, tucked his phone into his pocket and rose to his feet.  
  
“Okay, uhm, we’re going to need something stronger than tissues to stem the blood flow. Like gauze, or cotton, or – Derek, take off your shirt.”  
  
All eyes snapped to Derek.  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Really? You’re going to argue with me  _now_?” Regardless, Stiles held out his hand expectantly. “It’s for Danny.”  
  
Rather than comply, Derek’s arms crossed defensively over his chest. “Yeah, right. Last time it was ‘for’ Danny, too.”  
  
“What’s he talking about?” Confusion overrode the defensiveness in Jackson’s voice.  
  
“Are you going to try and redirect his blood flow?” Scott asked, head twisting around as he peeked out from his corner.  
  
Lydia’s snort was drowned out by Stiles’ loud accusation of, “Oh my  _God_ , you’re all idiots!” He scrubbed both hands over his hair in an exasperated fit. “I want to use your shirt as a compress for his nose! Why is that beyond everyone’s comprehension?”  
  
The suspicion didn’t fade from Derek’s face. “Why my shirt? Why not yours?”  
  
Looking about as put out as a teenager could be, Stiles made an obvious show of rolling his eyes and motioned at Derek’s torso. “Because I happen to know for a fact that you don’t mind getting blood on your shirt.” At Derek’s unwavering stare, Stiles found himself continuing to list off reasons. “And because it looks like it might be 100% cotton? Meaning…it’ll absorb better than my 50% polyester?”  
  
Derek refused to budge.  
  
“Okay, fine! And maybe I’m assuming there’s a bit of validity in Scott’s question, and out of all of us here – no offense to Lydia – you have the hottest body! There. Happy?” Stiles crossed his arms, his expression falling into one of petulance. “I’d do it myself, but I’m not exactly attractive to gay guys.”  
  
Derek’s mouth opened, clearly to argue, but stopped as he noticed Jackson jumping into action, slipping off his jacket and dropping it to the ground.  
  
“But – you’re not my type.”  
  
Jackson paused at Danny’s words before scoffing. “Try saying that when my shirt’s off,” he said as he proceeded to undo the buttons down the front of the shirt.  
  
This time, Danny reached out to grab Jackson’s forearm. “But I got you that shirt for your birthday.”  
  
Stiles’ mouth fell open in outrage as the two best friends shared a very obvious moment, lost in each other’s gazes. This was complete with Jackson’s fingers slipping away from his buttons to fall uselessly to his sides.  
  
Turning to see if  _his_  best friend was seeing this, Stiles’ jaw fell even further when the look on Scott’s face could only be described as, ‘that’s  _so_  precious!’  
  
Chancing a look at Derek, Stiles had to blink at the hard glare he was being subjected to. He managed to translate it to, ‘I don’t give a damn that Jackson won’t be giving up his shirt now. You’re not getting mine for the sake of eye candy. And if you try, I’m sneaking into your room at night just so I can force you to sleep on the floor.’  
  
“Am I really the only one here with an ounce of common sense?” Stiles demanded, his arms flying out to show he was addressing the room at large.  
  
“Uh, excuse me,” Lydia scoffed, hand snapping up to shoulder length. “I’m the one who gave the hospital suggestion.”  
  
Stiles took a large step over to stand by her, grabbing her arms in reassurance. “Yes, but men – particularly  _these_  men – are all idiots. And while I have done nothing but sing you praises since the day I met you, I’m starting to suspect your smarts and common sense might be the simple result of you being a girl.”  
  
Lydia’s suspicious confusion at whether she should take that as a compliment or an insult increased tenfold when Stiles suddenly halted, his eyes widening almost comically.  
  
“You’re a girl!”  
  
Lydia frowned. “Yeah. I had assumed you noticed a while ago.”  
  
You’re a—” Stiles moved back and started pointing frantically at her purse, snapping his fingers when she failed to obey the unspoken command. “Open it! Open it! Open it!”  
  
Spurred into action by the urgency in his voice, Lydia immediately started fumbling through her purse. Her stress levels were quick to break when Stiles failed to stop with the snapping. “I don’t even know what I’m looking for!”  
  
“You’re a girl!” Stiles made it sound like the most obvious answer in the world. “You have a—” His fingers came together and made a sort of twisting motion before thrusting upwards into the air. “A-a thing! For the – All girls have—!” It didn’t help that everyone else was staring at him just as uncomprehendingly. “A tampon! I need a tampon!”  
  
Lydia’s frozen features melted slightly into mild disturbance. “A tampon,” she echoed. Her eyes flickered over to Danny, who still appeared to have no idea where this was going. “You want to use a tampon to…” With a swift head motion, the rest of the men were suddenly clear on just what was being suggested.  
  
“Yes. Now, gimme!” Stiles’ outstretched hand began making grabbing motions.  
  
“Stiles, just use my shirt.”  
  
Stiles shot Derek a withering look. “Too late, that ship has already sailed. Besides, these things were meant for these kinds of situations.” He glanced down at the sealed tampon that was placed in his palm. “Well, sort of.”  
  
Ripping open the wrapper and tossing it carelessly in the general direction of Isaac and the pile of bloodied tissues he was in charge of, Stiles held the tampon up for closer inspection. The rest of the men in the room took a fearful stop back; a thud sounding as Scott’s back hit the wall.  
  
“I…have no idea what I’m doing,” Stiles admitted. “What the hell is this, and how do I make it work?”  
  
Lydia took back the tampon and pushed it out of its plastic applicator before handing it back to Stiles.  
  
“Oohhh. That’s…disturbingly clever.”  
  
Jackson gagged.  
  
“You know, we really don’t have to do this,” Danny spoke up. “I’m pretty sure the bleeding is slowing down, so I should…” he swallowed thickly as his eyes went slightly glassy. “I should be okay until we get to the…the place…”  
  
Stiles knelt before Danny, tampon hovering between the two of them. Placing his free hand on Danny’s wrist, he gently pulled the giant wad of tissues out of the way.  
  
Danny was a sight to behold. Through the mess of blood the tissues failed to pick up, Danny’s nose looked like a swollen knot. The dark coloration of skin only confirmed Stiles’ suspicions.  
  
“Oh yeah, I’d definitely say that was broken.”  
  
Despair shone through Danny’s eyes. “Crooked?”  
  
Stiles’ gaze flickered over his friend’s face, the corners of his lips tugging down into an exaggerated frown. “Mmm, no,” he lied decisively. “No, not at all.”  
  
Danny probably didn’t believe him, but Stiles made it a point to portray nothing but confidence. He attentively focused on Danny’s left nostril, where a small, steady stream of blood trickled down. The tampon continued to hover between them as Stiles eyed the hole with an intensity that had even Derek holding his breath. The seconds ticked by in tense silence, interrupted only by Jackson’s repressed heaves. It wasn’t until he actually gagged a second time that Lydia finally lost her patience and strode forward, snatching her tampon back.  
  
“Give me that,” she snapped over Stiles’ relieved sigh. She shoved him aside, leaving a pale, grossed out looking Derek to haul him up by the scruff of his shirt to get him out of the way.  
  
Crouching down in the space Stiles had previously occupied, Lydia resumed his position. “Jackson, be a dear and go start the car.”  
  
The jingling of keys and distant slam of the door punctuated her request. Danny suddenly looked ten times more terrified.  
  
“Can I go…help him start the car?” Scott pleaded.  
  
At Lydia’s barely noticeable nod, Scott was out the door just as fast as Jackson.  
  
Stiles didn’t even realize he was fighting for his own freedom until he felt the strain of his shirt in Derek’s grip.  
  
“Hey, why do their feelings get to be spared? Why not mine?” he pleaded, flailing a bit when Derek altered his grip into a more secure hold.  
  
“You don’t get to run away from your sympathy when this was your idea in the first place,” Derek stated, the growl in his voice diminishing the impact of the wisdom in his words.  
  
Stiles tried to direct his scowl at Derek, but stopped when he realized their faces were much too close together to do so.  
  
He settled for griping instead. “You make it sound like I’ve sentenced him to death.”  
  
“You sentenced a gay man to a tampon up the nose,” Lydia bit out, dragging her eyes away from Danny’s nose to the half-hearted struggles Stiles refused to give up on. “That’s practically the same thing.”  
  
“Blame Derek!” Stiles argued back. “He’s the one who deemed me advice-worthy. People generally don’t listen to me for a reason.”  
  
Derek’s biceps flexed threateningly as he tightened his hold. “It’s fine. Go,” he instructed Lydia.  
  
Danny’s frightened request of, “Please don’t touch me.” curtailed the command.  
  
For a long moment, nothing happened. Stiles gave up his struggles in favor of clutching Derek back, figuring they could both use the support. Isaac was staring down at his handful of tissues, seemingly at a loss of what to do. Danny was shaking his head imperceptibly, as if he couldn’t believe his years of associated friendship with Lydia had led to this. Derek…well, Derek seemed to be returning Stiles’ awkward hug.  
  
Lydia’s lips pursed and she took in a sharp, fortifying breath. A rather emasculating screech emerged from someone’s mouth as she started to move forward with conviction, only to be stopped by a bunched up shirt that was abruptly shoved before her hand, blocking the tampon’s path.  
  
All eyes turned to the now shirtless Isaac.  
  
“It’s 90% cotton,” he offered earnestly, looking around at the room’s remaining occupants before stepping closer to gently press his shirt to Danny’s nose.  
  
Stiles sagged in Derek’s grip. “Oh, thank God,” he breathed out, allowing himself to stagger over and collapse next to Lydia when Derek shoved him away.  
  
“I think now would be a good time to rush him to the hospital,” Isaac suggested, helping Danny to his feet and supporting most of his weight.  
  
Lydia, Stiles, and Derek remained where they were for a moment of recuperation, choosing to simply watch Isaac lead Danny out to the waiting car.  
  
“For the sake of everyone’s mental health, we’re never going to speak of this again,” Derek decided. “Agreed?”  
  
Lydia nodded.  
  
Derek pointed a finger at Stiles. “Shut up.”  
  
Stiles’ mouth hovered open in outrage. “I didn’t even say anything!”  
  
“You were going to,” Derek insisted. “When we get to the hospital, you’re going to find yourself a time out corner,” he ordered while striding towards the front door.  
  
“For what?!” Stiles demanded. “Having a practical idea?”  
  
“I’m going to take a guess,” Lydia whispered, wincing as the door slammed shut behind Derek before continuing, “That it’s for the hug.”  
  
And with that, Stiles found himself alone and speechless.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: old-sterek-feels


End file.
